No End to the Lengths We'll Go
by elbcw
Summary: 'You see,' said the man, 'we are going to hunt you. We've all paid to hunt. The men that catch you get the money.' 'That's barbaric,' said d'Artagnan. The man smirked, 'oh but it's such fun. There are no rules. The men who have entered can work alone or in groups.' 'My friend is injured,' said Aramis, 'we're at a disadvantage.' The man replied, 'not our problem, Musketeer.'
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: Yes, it's been done before, heck I've done a 'they've been captured and are being hunted' story before...but they're such fun to write. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Title mercilessly stolen/adapted from 'Hunting High and Low' – A-Ha.**

No End to the Lengths We'll Go

Chapter One

The house was big, the room they were stood in was big. Everything about Legrand suited his name. They were yet to meet the man in question, but they knew, from a brief description that he was a big broad man.

The large library had an expansive desk with an impressive chair behind it. There was a long sideboard and a large table with several heavy looking chairs around it. There was minimal clutter and the large windows, that opened onto a well-manicured lawn were plain.

D'Artagnan had been despatched with Aramis to deliver a letter to Gervais Legrand. Treville had intimated that Legrand would not be happy with the contents of the letter and that they were to wait for a reply.

D'Artagnan sighed inwardly when he remembered how they had ended up on the simple message delivery. He and Aramis had been sparring with a couple of Cadets who were both soundly beaten. The two Musketeers had been a bit cocky about their win, all in good fun, but Treville had decided that they needed to be reminded that they were not above simple tasks and had handed Aramis the letter with a conspiratorial wink toward the two beaten Cadets. Aramis had made a theatrical bow to Treville as he walked away causing the Cadets to snigger almost landing Aramis in proper trouble when Treville turned back towards them.

Now, after a dusty ride, they were waiting, still, for Legrand to put in an appearance. The day was warm, a little too warm for their uniforms to be comfortable but they were used to that. He guessed that Aramis would have liked to have been offered a drink as much as he wanted one. But they had been shown into the library and told that Legrand would be back shortly. D'Artagnan estimated they had been waiting for thirty minutes already.

Aramis had wandered about the impressive room for a while looking at the book, he had not dared to take any out to look at them properly; although d'Artagnan could tell his friend wanted to.

'Shall we start betting on how long he's going to be?' said Aramis idly as he stopped his slow stroll around the room to look across the lawn towards the tree line.

'Surely he can't keep us here much longer, it's already been too long,' remarked d'Artagnan, glancing towards the open door as the servant who had let them in walked passed.

The young man, d'Artagnan thought he was a couple of years younger than himself, had seemed very timid. He had quietly shown them into the library. They had hardly been able to hear him speak before he silently walked away again.

The other servants they had seen also behaved very timidly. The two stable boys who took their horses almost looked malnourished.

A male voice shouted in the hallway outside the room, 'I told you I wanted them ready. You know I cannot predict when I will need them.'

A sharp slap and the sound of a body hitting the ground had d'Artagnan walking towards the door only to find himself facing a man taller than himself by a couple of inches. The man was broad as well, d'Artagnan wondered if even Porthos would be a little intimidated by his size. They had spotted a large horse on their way to the house and had wondered then if the man who would ride it was a giant.

'Where are you going? Don't they teach you patience?'

D'Artagnan stepped back as the man walked passed. He glanced into the hall in time to see the timid servant walking away, rubbing his arm as he did so. The man's shirt was untucked on one side. It was clear he had been the one to fall to the floor.

As he turned back to the room he saw Aramis approach the man and hand him the letter. Legrand snatched it from the marksman and turned his back on them both as he walked to his desk ripping the seal as he did so.

D'Artagnan went to stand with Aramis and watched as Legrand read the letter.

The tall man wore a simple, but expensive looking, black doublet and breeches. He had riding boots on and a riding crop tucked under his arm. Legrand was clean shaven, with a strong, square jaw. He had short black hair.

After a few minutes Legrand turned towards them both, he took a couple of steps forward in an attempt to appear more intimidating. A move which might have worked on his timid young servant or the stable boys, but it did not cause the Musketeers to react.

'You can go,' he said.

'We were told to wait for your reply,' said Aramis.

'My lack of reply should be reply enough, leave.'

Aramis paused for a moment before speaking again, 'as you wish, Monsieur, but the King will be disappointed that his request for a reply has not been followed.'

Legrand stared at them both for a few seconds before looking towards the door.

'Gilbert,' he yelled.

The servant appeared in the doorway a few seconds later.

'See them out,' he said.

Gilbert hesitated.

'What?' said the man walking towards him.

The servant looked like he wanted to move away but remained where he was.

'Cook wants to know how many will be dining tonight?'

'I will let him know in due course…'

When the servant did not move, Legrand raised his hand and struck the slight man who had no time to react. The force of the blow sent the servant into the door frame. He crumpled to the floor where he remained for a couple of seconds before scrambling up again, this time out of reach of Legrand.

D'Artagnan found himself being held back by Aramis. He had not realised he had walked halfway across the room. Aramis had a firm hold of his arm. D'Artagnan looked back at his friend. Aramis slowly shook his head. It was clear the marksman did not approve of the way Legrand had just treated his servant, but he also knew it was not wise for them to interfere.

Legrand had turned back, he looked at them both for a couple of seconds before moving back to his desk and taking a seat.

Aramis made a small, respectful bow before turning his back on the man and leaving the room. D'Artagnan could not bring himself to show any respect and simply followed his friend.

Gilbert was waiting for them in the hallway, he had his head slightly lowered. Once they were out of sight of Legrand, Aramis crossed to the young man and gently lifted his head up and looked at the mark left on his cheek from the strike.

Gilbert flinched away at the touch, but Aramis reached out with his other hand and gently squeezed the scared young man's shoulder and smiled at him.

'I have something in my bag that will help with the bruising,' Aramis said quietly.

Gilbert looked at him for a few seconds, d'Artagnan wondered if Aramis was the first person to show him kindness.

The servant looked down again before replying, his words barely audible, 'it's alright, the cook has a herbal mixture that lessons the effect.'

Aramis nodded and allowed Gilbert to show them to the door. It was clear the servant was used to being hurt. If the cook was prepared to deal with minor injuries it was probably not an uncommon occurrence.

Gilbert left them at the door as the stable boys brought their horses up to them. Aramis was about to give the boys a coin each from his purse, but Gilbert spoke again.

'He won't like them having any money, it would make it worse.'

Aramis turned back to Gilbert, he reached out his hand towards the servant, 'if you give it to the cook can he source a little extra food for them without your master knowing?'

Gilbert slowly extended his hand and took the coins, he nodded with a slight smile.

'Thank you, Monsieur.'

MMMM

'It is cruel,' said Aramis with resignation, 'but there is nothing we can do.'

'I hate it,' replied d'Artagnan, 'that poor man, I doubt he's got enough money to travel anywhere else to even look for work.'

They had ridden away from the house without a second look. Aramis had hated watching the way Legrand treated his servant. The slight young man had fading bruises on his face and wrists. Aramis suspected Gilbert was grabbed and pushed about by the larger man frequently. He had disliked having to stop d'Artagnan from interfering. He had wanted to treat the brute of a landowner a lesson just as much as his friend had. But they were on the King's business, although neither of them knew what that business was. The contents of the letter remained a mystery to them both. It cannot have been pleasant. Legrand's reaction to the letter told them that much.

Aramis tried to put the event out of his mind and enjoy the ride back to Paris. The countryside was pretty. Small woods dotted the landscape of rolling hills. A rocky, scrubby area a couple of miles away added interest to the view. The ground was hard and dry after a couple of weeks with no rain, but it had not been dry long enough to cause the smaller streams to dry out. All in all, the day was pleasant, marred only by the brutish man who owned the large house they were riding away from.

As the road took them through one of the wooded areas they slowed the horses to a walk to pick their way through the overgrowth. The combination of rain the month before and now several days of sunshine had led to many bushes and creeping plants growing quickly making the going a little harder for the horses. But, at a walk, the well-trained beasts could move with ease.

Something made Aramis look across to his right, some small movement had seemed out of place. D'Artagnan, who was riding next to him turned to follow his gaze.

'What is it?' he asked quietly.

'Not sure...might be nothing.'

'It's never nothing,' replied d'Artagnan wryly.

Both Musketeers pulled their guns at the same time as several men surrounded them. Aramis' mare became restless, it took him a few seconds to calm her and look back up at the men. At least ten, armed men had appeared from behind rocks and trees. All were aiming guns at them. Several more men on horseback were also appearing.

The men were all wearing the same black hooded cloaks. The hoods were all up. Aramis could not see any of their faces. He realised he could not be sure all the riders were men, but he did not like to think of women acting in such a manner.

One of the riders, who wore brown boots urged his horse forward a little closer. He reached up and pulled down his hood. The man, in his late twenties, had dirty blond hair. He had a scar on his jawline which when inflicted would have been a nasty wound.

'You are two men against thirty. You may take out a couple of us before you are overwhelmed. If you take out any of us you will be hurt in return.'

Neither Aramis or d'Artagnan responded. Aramis scanned the group of men. He knew d'Artagnan was doing the same, looking for a way past or through them. They knew they could not take on that many men at once, a few at a time, perhaps, but not all at once.

Four of the men on foot approached them. Aramis allowed himself to be disarmed, keeping his own hands in sight, he did not want to antagonise anyone.

'What do you want?' asked d'Artagnan, directing his question to the blond man.

The man ignored him, merely nodding towards the two men on horseback beside him. They approached, stopping next to them, pulling roped from under their cloaks. Even in such close proximity, Aramis could not see the men's faces.

The man next to him reached forward and took Aramis' left wrist and pulled it forward to rest at the front of his saddle, he did not resist the man. The rope was employed to tie his wrist to the front of his saddle, he moved his right arm forward before the man could grab him, once he was fully restrained he looked up at the man in front of them who had smugly watched.

'What do you want with us?' said d'Artagnan again as he pulled away from the man who had moved to the other side of him and was trying to tie his hands.

Aramis tried to warn his friend but d'Artagnan was too angry, glaring at the blond man who simply nodded to the man beside d'Artagnan.

Before Aramis could protest the hooded man had hit d'Artagnan hard enough to render him unconscious. Aramis instinctively leaned across to his brother but was pulled back by the man who had restrained him.

D'Artagnan was not allowed to fall from his horse, he was grabbed by a couple of the men and pulled around to lie across the horse and secured to it.

'He didn't deserve that,' spat Aramis towards the blond man.

'If he had stayed quiet it wouldn't have happened,' the man said with a snarling grin, 'perhaps you should heed the advice and not speak again...or you will be treated in the same manner...or I may just run your friend through.'

Aramis glared at the man but did not speak again. With d'Artagnan unconscious his hopes of them escaping were now gone, he would not abandon his brother should the opportunity to escape present itself. It would either be both of them or neither.

The blond man walked his horse forward until he was next to Aramis. He pulled out a strip of cloth and tied it over Aramis' eyes leaving him without any sight. His weapons belts were undone and removed, pulled from him roughly.

He was aware of the reins to the horse being taken and the horse being turned. From the sounds around him, he guessed that all the men, both on foot and on horseback were on the move. But Aramis had no idea where they were going.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Without his sight, Aramis had to rely on his other senses. He listened out for conversations around him, but none of the men spoke. All he could hear was the horse's hooves and their occasional snorts. He tried to feel the different surfaces they crossed. He was fairly sure after they slowly moved through the wood they joined a rough road. His horse was urged to move faster.

The faster movement left Aramis disorientated. He trusted his horse not to act erratically but he still found himself clutching the saddle tightly.

He had no idea where they were being taken, or who was taking them. The blond man had given them no clue what was to happen to them. They were obviously wanted alive, but why did it take nearly thirty men to capture them. They were only two men, they were Musketeers but even with their training, they could not have outfought thirty men.

The sound the hooves were making softened; Aramis guessed they were walking over grass. His horse was stopped. He could hear men dismounting around him. Hands were on his, undoing the rope that had tied him to the saddle. He was roughly pulled from the horse, losing his balance as he reached the ground. A man on each side of him kept him upright. They firmly held his arms by his side, he was not given a chance to remove his blindfold.

The men holding him forced him forward. Aramis did not resist the men, his worry for d'Artagnan's safety at the front of his mind. There were noises around him. He sensed the rest of the men milling around.

The surface under his feet changed from grass to stone. He was stopped for a few moments. A squeaky hinge indicated that a door was opened in front of him. The next step had him stumble. His breathing quickened as the men holding him prevented him from falling. Several steps led him down to...somewhere. He could not help but continue to stumble down eventually being jarred to a stop when the steps ended. The sound had changed. Aramis was sure he was inside as his and his captor's steps now echoed around him. The atmosphere had changed, the sweet smell of plants and flowers had been replaced by the damp earthy smell of an underground room.

Another squeaky hinge made itself known. Aramis was pushed forward again before being released by the men holding him. A dull thud next to him made him look around before he flinched as the blindfold was pulled from his head. He blinked a few times as his eyes became accustomed to the light again.

What light there was, was dim, it did not take him long to get his sight back. The blond man was stood in front of him.

'Take off your doublet,' he said.

Two men stood either side of the blond man had their guns levelled at Aramis. Without speaking he undid his jacket and took it off. One of the men stepped forward and took it from him.

'I need his as well,' the blond man pointed to the floor.

Aramis looked where the man had pointed and quickly crouched down. D'Artagnan had been left on the floor, still unconscious. Ignoring the men around him Aramis gently turned his friend onto his back and checked the injury to his head. There was a bruise and some grazing where he had been hit, but the Musketeer was breathing steadily.

'Jacket,' said the man again.

'I need to treat his injury,' said Aramis, looking up at the man.

'Take his doublet off and I will have water and some bandages brought down for him.'

Aramis glanced at the men with the guns and his surroundings. They were in what looked like a cellar to a large house. There was no light other than torches. D'Artagnan and he were in a barred cell, the door of which currently stood open. The blond man and two of the hooded men were in the cell with another two men just outside. All were armed. All were watching him carefully.

Reluctantly Aramis moved d'Artagnan enough to be able to relieve him of his doublet. He gently lay his friend back down before handing the jacket to the same man who had taken his own.

The blond man glanced behind him and nodded. One of the men stood outside the cell entered. Aramis knew he had not hidden his shocked expression well when he saw what the man was carrying. A set of manacles with a chain of about two foot between them. The man approached Aramis and d'Artagnan. The men who were aiming their guns at Aramis took a step forward as if to remind him they were there. The man holding the manacles stopped in front of him and indicated for Aramis to raise his right arm. He did so, his wrist was promptly encircled with one manacle. The man crouched beside d'Artagnan and lifted his left wrist snapping the other manacle to him before retreating from the room.

Aramis looked at the manacles that were now keeping d'Artagnan and him chained together. They were rusty and looked old but they were still solid enough that they would not be easy to remove without the key.

He looked up at the blond man who was turning to leave the cell.

'What are you going to do?' he asked.

The blond man closed the cell door, the squeak of the hinge an almost ominous sound.

'The bandages will be brought down shortly,' he said.

All Aramis could do was watch the blond man go with the hooded men in tow. The sliver of light from outside that had been spilling through the open door disappeared as it was closed.

Aramis and d'Artagnan were left alone in the dim light of a single torch. Aramis still had no idea what was going on.

MMMM

'Where are Aramis and d'Artagnan?' asked Athos as he searched the garrison for their friends.

'I sent them off to deliver a letter. They won't be long...although I actually thought they would be back by now,' replied Treville as he descended the steps towards his Musketeers.

Porthos, who had been pouring himself a drink, looked up, 'where did they go?'

'The letter was addressed to Gervais Legrand. From the King, I don't think it was good news.'

Athos watched as Porthos' expression darkened, 'Legrand?' he said.

Treville nodded, 'do you know him?'

'A few years ago, when I was still in the infantry, he was in my regiment for a few months, fancied 'imself as an officer. But he was harsh, even the more strict officers found him over the top. They kicked 'im out.'

Treville shook his head, 'I don't know the name, I can't have crossed paths with him.'

Porthos continued, 'I kept clear of him, once we worked out he was prepared to hit anyone who displeased him most of us only went near 'im if we had to.'

'You don't think anything untoward could have happened do you?' asked Treville who looked concerned, glancing towards the garrison gate.

Porthos shrugged his shoulders, 'if the letter wasn't to 'is liking...but what's he gonna do to them?'

'They are late back,' sighed Treville, 'I...er...don't need either of you for a bit, if you wanted to go for a ride I wouldn't stop you. Perhaps first thing tomorrow morning?'

Athos bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the veiled instruction. Porthos drained his cup and put it down before turning to Athos.

'Fancy a ride out of the city? We should get an early night and leave at first light'

'Why not?'

MMMM

After the men had retreated from the cellar and left them on their own Aramis moved d'Artagnan, as gently as he could, to the wall of the cell. He had sat down, leaning against the cold stone and pulled the unconscious man closer to him, laying d'Artagnan's head on his lap in an attempt to make him comfortable. There was nothing he could do for his brother. If the blond man had been telling the truth and water and bandages were brought down to them Aramis could at least clean and dress the wound. It was not much of an injury, but, given their current circumstances, Aramis would prefer any injury to be cleaned and covered up.

Aramis lifted his right hand and looked at the manacle. It seemed odd that with so many men at his disposal the blond man had felt the need to restrain them in such a way. Had it been done to stop Aramis from leaving his unconscious brother?

He stared at the torch on the wall outside their cell for a few minutes. He had no idea what the time was. It had been mid-afternoon when they had left Legrand's house, Aramis guessed it was well into the evening as he sat on the cold stone floor in the dank cellar with only an unconscious, injured Musketeer for company.

A quiet groan snapped Aramis back to alertness. D'Artagnan shifted slightly and groaned again.

'Take your time,' said Aramis quietly.

D'Artagnan tried to push himself up to sit, only managing it with Aramis' help. The younger man blinked a few times, the pain he was obviously in showing harshly across his face.

'Can you remember what happened?' asked Aramis.

D'Artagnan looked at him for a few seconds. Aramis could see him thinking back, putting the last few minutes he could remember in order.

'Lots of men...one of them hit me...my fault for talking...sorry.'

Aramis smiled, 'you were only asking the same question that I was thinking,' he said.

The groggy Musketeer looked slowly around the room.

'I don't know where we are, or who has taken us, or why. And,' Aramis paused raising his manacled arm, 'I don't know why they have done this to us.'

D'Artagnan looked at his left wrist, he pulled at the manacle a little before reaching the same conclusion Aramis had, that the metal was still strong.

'Ransom?' he asked.

'I doubt it, the King wouldn't pay for our release. I don't get the impression it's personal either. I really have no idea.'

The sound of a door being opened caused both men to look up. Light footsteps could be heard for a few seconds coming from the opposite direction to the door they had entered by.

Gilbert appeared at the cell wall. Both captive men stared at him in disbelief. The young servant, bruises darkening on his cheek, looked at them.

He was carrying a tray with a jug and two cups. He placed the tray on the ground in front of the bars before glancing back towards the door he had come through.

'I can't stay long, they'll miss me,' he said.

Aramis helped d'Artagnan over to the bars of the cell.

'Are we back at Legrand's house?' asked Aramis.

Gilbert nodded before glancing back at the door he had come through. He reached into his pocket and produced a small vial of liquid, he reached through the bars of the cell and gave the vial to Aramis.

'I guessed that one of you was injured,' he said glancing down at the tray on the floor.

Aramis saw bandages neatly arranged next to a plate and the jug.

'That's a painkiller. It should help you,' continued Gilbert who was looking at the injury d'Artagnan was sporting on his forehead.

'Can you get us out?' asked d'Artagnan taking another step towards the bars.

Gilbert stepped back, 'he'd kill me.'

'You could come with us?' suggested Aramis.

'But the cook and the other servants?'

It was obvious the frightened young man could not help them. His fear, for himself and the other people under Legrand's employ, prevented him from doing anything. Aramis guessed the man had taken a big risk bringing d'Artagnan the painkiller.

'Please, don't tell him I gave you that…' said Gilbert, 'I need the bottle back.'

D'Artagnan nodded his understanding, he pulled the stopper from the small vial. He sniffed it before glancing at Aramis. Aramis nodded, he doubted Gilbert was trying to hurt them. D'Artagnan tipped the liquid into his mouth and swallowed, he pulled a disapproving face for a few seconds.

'Thanks,' he said, although he did not sound too sure.

Gilbert took the empty vial and slipped it into his pocket.

'When they let you go, don't stop,' he said hurriedly, 'keep running. They don't really want you to win.'

'What do you mean?' asked Aramis.

But Gilbert was already moving towards the door, he pulled it open and stepped outside looking at the man who was stood guard on the other side warily.

MMMM

 **Authors note: As this and the next chapter are both a little shorter than the rest, you can have chapter three later on today (or early tomorrow, depending on where you live).**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: Thanks for all the reviews.**

 **There is a swear word in this chapter, I believe it is used in context, no offence is intended.**

Chapter Three

It was several hours before Legrand appeared in the cellar. Aramis had finished wrapping the bandage around d'Artagnan's head. They had eaten the bread and cheese that was also on the tray and drunk the provided water. Aramis had encouraged d'Artagnan to sleep, the painkiller seemed to have helped with the obvious headache the man had.

When Legrand entered both Musketeers scrambled to their feet, Aramis had to steady d'Artagnan, he realised the painkiller had worn off. He wished they had been able to get more from Gilbert.

Legrand stopped in front of the cell. The blond man was stood slightly behind him. The other men with them were still hooded.

'I see you are awake Musketeer,' said Legrand as he looked d'Artagnan over.

Both Musketeers stared at Legrand. D'Artagnan was trying to appear in better health than he actually was, they did not want to give Legrand the idea that they would be easy to take out.

'What do you want with us?' said Aramis. 'We are the King's Musketeers. An attack on us is akin to an attack on him. Is that what you want?'

Legrand turned his attention to Aramis, 'partly, yes. I want to show him that I am not impressed with his demands and my treatment of you two is meant to hurt him.'

Aramis would have liked to point out to Legrand that the King would probably not care if two of his men were hurt or killed. It would probably annoy only annoy the King if they were lucky.

'But I also like to have a little wager occasionally with my friends,' Legrand continued. 'And you two will make for high stakes in the bets.'

Aramis was starting to work it out, he stared at the man incredulously. The man did not confine his evil treatment to his own servants. He also seemed to have no issue with causing harm to others as well.

'You see,' said the blond man, 'we are going to hunt you. We've all paid our way into the hunt. The man or men that catch you get the money.'

'That's barbaric,' said d'Artagnan.

Legrand smirked, 'oh but it's such fun. There are no rules. The men who have entered can work alone, or in groups and split the money if they win. My little group here, we are generally the winners.'

The blond man smirked again. Aramis suspected there was a reason they won the hunts. But he did not know what.

'My friend is injured, we're at a disadvantage.'

The blond man said, 'not our problem, Musketeer.'

'What if we don't run?' asked d'Artagnan.

The blond man stepped forward, pulling a dagger from his belt as he did so. He nodded to one of the other men who opened the cell door. The blond man stepped into the cell and stopped in front of Aramis who did not move, merely stared at the man. The blond raised the knife and lay the blade on Aramis' neck, pressing it against the skin.

'If you chose not to run, we will have our fun another way. You are clearly more than just fellow soldiers to each other. I would say you are good friends. We could have hours of fun playing you off against each other...is that what you would prefer. That I start slicing your friend up? Or would you like to take your chance out there.'

The blond man removed the knife from Aramis' neck and stepped away.

'You might win, you might get away,' the man said.

Legrand laughed out loud at the remark, 'one day Samson, one day someone will get away from us...but not today.'

Legrand turned and walked out through the door leading to the outside. Two of the hooded men, their guns raised, gestured for Aramis and d'Artagnan to follow.

The chain linking their manacles was long enough that Aramis was able to keep his hand on d'Artagnan's waist. His brother was still unsteady, he had not had nearly enough time to rest since the head injury was inflicted. If they were going to be forced to run, Aramis knew it would not be easy for d'Artagnan. The man would do his best but they were at a distinct disadvantage.

One of the hooded men pushed him from behind, he turned and glared at the man who again gestured for them to move onwards.

The sun was high in the sky as they were brought out of the cellar. Aramis and d'Artagnan found themselves stood at the rear of the Legrand residence. The well-manicured lawn which had looked attractive when Aramis had been looking at it the previous day was now covered with men in capes. Some on foot, some on horseback. The men who had taken them prisoner were now part of Legrand's ludicrous hunt. In the space of a few minutes, the two Musketeers had gone from prisoners to hunted men. The odds were not in their favour. Neither of them knew the area well, d'Artagnan was carrying a head injury, and they were chained together.

Aramis tried to think back to what he had seen as they had ridden to and from the house earlier in the day. He knew there were small pockets of woods dotted about and a rocky area which he thought would be to their left across the lawns.

D'Artagnan would probably use all his energy just trying to stay upright, it would be up to Aramis to guide them both. He glanced at the younger man who looked determined, but could not hide the pain he was still in.

'How bad is it?' whispered Aramis.

'Bad enough, I'll try not to slow us down.'

D'Artagnan was clearly worried he was going to be a burden in their escape.

'Follow my lead...I think we should try to find somewhere to hide rather than to run…'

Aramis paused and looked around him, the men were milling around, waiting for something. Legrand was talking to Samson a few yards away.

'...you need to rest for a few hours, then we can try to get away. You won't last long enough otherwise.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'sorry,' he said.

Aramis reached up and squeezed his arm, 'it could have been either of us, they probably intended to hobble us somehow, this chain would not be enough to impede two trained men.'

Samson walked up to them, he looked them both up and down before speaking.

'You have thirty minutes...I suggest you use it wisely.'

Samson stood aside with a sweep of his hand towards the wooded area that surrounded the house.

Aramis and d'Artagnan did not need telling twice. They knew there was no point trying to reason with the men. Their only chance of survival was to try to escape. They broke into a run and passed the men who would soon be actively hunting them.

MMMM

Athos and Porthos were shown into a large study by a blond man who did not look like a servant. He had left them, closing the door behind them. They had been told that Legrand would be with them shortly, that he had a little business to attend to but after that he would be able to spare them thirty minutes at most.

Athos looked around the room. The study had four large cushioned chairs the fabric coverings a deep blue. The hearth was large with an impressive mantelpiece above it. Life-sized portraits hung about the room. A mirror over the fire added to the impression of size. One wall of the room was filled with books.

'We should have met them on the way,' said Porthos, unable to hide his worry.

'They may have taken the other route.'

'It's longer that way, they would know that.'

Athos sighed, 'you are right, it is odd that we have not come across them. I feel...uneasy.'

Porthos managed a smirk, 'are you getting Aramis' sixth sense for trouble?'

'I think anyone would be able to feel the oddness about this place,' remarked Athos, 'the man that showed us in here, he was not a servant.'

'There was a young lad peering at us from a doorway who looked more like a servant. He had a bruise across his face,' said Porthos.

Their ruminations were interrupted by the door being flung open. A tall, broad man entered. He was taller than either of them and looked as though he could give Porthos a run for his money in a fist fight.

'What do you want? I am busy.'

The brusque words caused Athos to be further on his guard. They were not used to being talked to in that manner.

'We are here on the Kings business, Monsieur, a little respect is called for.'

'Is the King here?' asked the man making a point of looking around for the Monarch.

Athos paused, narrowing his eyes. The two men regarded each other for a few seconds.

'We're looking for two fellow soldiers who were sent to you today,' said Porthos, 'we want to know if they got here.'

'No, I have not seen them.'

Athos continued to look at the man.

'Was there anything else?'

The man walked away from them towards a side table with a tray of bottles on it. He began to pour himself a drink. Whilst his back was turned Athos found himself being nudged by Porthos who pointed towards one of the cushioned chairs.

Athos saw the letter, the broken Royal seal clear to see. Their brothers had been there, but Legrand was lying about it. Porthos opinion of the man seemed to be founded.

Athos nodded to Porthos before speaking to Legrand again.

'Monsieur, we are sorry to have taken up your valuable time.'

Legrand did not turn back to them, he downed his drink and poured himself another.

Considering themselves dismissed the two Musketeers retreated from the room, letting themselves out. They met the blond man in the hallway.

'Let me show you out, your horses are waiting for you.'

The blond man led them to the main door, which like everything else in the house was large. He opened the door and ushered them out. As the two soldiers descended the steps the blond man watched them from the door.

Porthos said quietly, 'do you get the impression he wants to make sure we leave?'

Athos nodded, 'if that is what he wants us to do then we should do so.'

They mounted up and, after nodding to the blond man who continued to watch them from the door of the large house, they rode away, out of sight.

'Why'd he lie to us?' asked Porthos, although he did not expect an answer.

'Do you remember anything else about the man? He clearly did not know you.'

Porthos sighed, 'like I said, I kept clear of him. He was never directly in charge of my section, so he may not have seen me much. But I meant what I said, he was a vindictive bastard. I saw him hit one man across the face, took the man's eye.'

Athos shook his head, 'we need to find out what has happened to them.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan just wanted to stop, but he could not.

His head hurt. He knew that Aramis was aware and wanted to help him. But at the same time Aramis was practically dragging him along. They had quickly crossed the lawn and got themselves into the trees. But they were far too close to Legrand's house to stop.

D'Artagnan was happy to go along with Aramis' plan to hide rather than run, but he wished they could find somewhere quickly to do so.

His head was pounding, thudding with every footfall.

But still Aramis forced him along. His friend had looped the chain around his wrist and grabbed him by the hand as they had run. D'Artagnan knew he would have lagged behind quickly and ended up pulling on the chain if Aramis had not grabbed him.

He wished he could close his eyes, but he needed to see where he was being taken. Aramis was not letting up on the pace and the ground was not even. D'Artagnan was panting hard. He just wanted to stop and lie down, close his eyes, not do anything.

But he could not. Aramis was not letting him.

They were on the run. Aramis was dragging him along for a reason. D'Artagnan just had to keep reminding himself his friend was causing him discomfort with good cause.

He was glad Aramis was there and he hated Aramis at the same time. But they had to keep going, until it was safe, and d'Artagnan had to rely on Aramis to help him. But he still hated the man, at that moment.

D'Artagnan just wanted to stop, but he could not.

MMMM

 **Authors note: Next chapter tomorrow around 1600 UK time – public transport permitting.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

'I apologise for the delay, Monsieur's,' said Legrand, his voice loud enough for all the men assembled across his lawn to here.

Porthos and Athos crept as close as they could. As soon as they were out of sight of the house they had left the road and circled around towards the back of the house. The sight that greeted them was not pleasant. The rear lawn of the house was full of men wearing identical hooded capes. Some of the men were on horseback, their beasts pawing at the ground. Others were on foot, guns and swords glinting in the sunlight.

The two Musketeers secreted themselves behind a low hedge, close enough to hear Legrand speaking to the men.

'As you saw, our prey has been released. Soldiers, Musketeers no less. Do not say, Monsieur's, that I do not find the best quarry for you to hunt.'

Some of the hooded men cheered at the remark. A couple clapped their hands in approval.

'One of them is injured, a head injury, so I have decided to give them a little time to get started...we wouldn't want the game to be over too quickly.'

Legrand paused and looked at the men who shifted, a few looked in the direction of the tree line. Porthos guessed that was the direction their brothers had left in. Knowing that one of them was carrying an injury and that they were to be hunted was appalling. Porthos wanted nothing more than to get after his brothers, he glanced at Athos who looked just as shocked at the treatment Aramis and d'Artagnan appeared to have received.

'The usual rules apply,' continued Legrand. 'The first man to bring me back their bodies, wins the money.'

Most of the hunters cheered, a couple raised their guns in salute to Legrand. The blond man lifted his own weapon, aiming it into the sky. Legrand glanced back at him and nodded. The blond man pulled the trigger. The gunshot started the hunt. The men on the lawn began to make their way towards the trees. There was not a rush, the men were coordinating themselves. Some went with purpose, others appeared to be working tactically and were perhaps trying to get ahead of their prey.

Legrand and the blond man casually walked up to their horses which were standing ready, being held by two small stable boys who looked nothing short of terrified of their master and his man. They mounted up and with two men in tow began to move off following the other hunters.

Porthos and Athos remained where they were for a few seconds before retreating the way they had come.

'I've worked out why they are all hooded,' said Porthos as they walked, 'I think the hunters, they are men of power, they don't want anyone to know they're doing this. A few of the horses, the tack was far too expensive.'

'I agree,' replied Athos as they made their way back to their own horses, 'and if it were known they were hunting Musketeers they would be punished by the King.'

'We gotta find them,' said Porthos as he mounted up.

Athos replied with a sigh, 'a task that will not be easy if we have to evade the hunters at the same time.'

MMMM

He had thought running towards the rocky area would be a good idea. He did not think that now.

Aramis had steered d'Artagnan towards the area he had seen the previous day. He guessed there would be plenty of hiding places for them, a cave or even an overhanging rock that they could crawl to the back of. There were no dogs amongst the hunting men, so they would not be sniffed out. Provided they did not leave a visible trace of their whereabouts the hunters would hopefully pass them by.

But the rocky area was surrounded by a ravine of sorts. They had stumbled to a stop at the edge of a steep slope. Both men were panting. D'Artagnan had bent over, his eyes screwed shut.

'I'm sorry, d'Artagnan,' Aramis had said, rubbing his hand across the younger man's back, 'we have to carry on.'

D'Artagnan nodded and forced himself back upright.

Slowly, carefully, they had begun to pick their way down the side of the ravine. A few loose rocks skittered away. A couple of birds flew off, startled. Aramis hoped their pursuers were still too far away to see the birds take flight. He did not want to advertise what they had done. After leaving the lawn and getting out of sight they had turned to the left, just within the woods, running parallel to the house for a hundred yards or so before veering off to the right heading towards the area they were now in, gingerly picking their way down a steep rocky slope.

One rock, that had looked solid enough when Aramis put his foot on it proved to be anything but, it tipped over, sending Aramis off balance. Before he could react, he was on the ground, the steepness of the slope meant he could not stop himself from skidding forward dragging his unfortunate brother with him.

With flailing arms and legs Aramis had desperately tried to stop there too rapid descent. He had caught a glimpse of the bottom of the slope and it did not look comfortable, with several jagged rocks waiting for them. Aramis managed to twist onto this side and continued to scrabble at the ground to get a firm grip. D'Artagnan did not seem capable of anything. His natural instinct to stop falling had kicked in but he had been uncoordinated in his movements.

The thing that cruelly stopped their fall was the chain between their manacles. When they had fallen Aramis had loosened his hold on it leaving it fully extended. It had wrapped itself around a small tree trunk with d'Artagnan on one side and Aramis on the other. The stop was jarring and painful for both of them.

Aramis stifled a scream of pain, it felt like his side was on fire. He screwed his eyes shut and leaned his head back panting hard for a few seconds, his left hand reaching for the source of the pain. He was surprised when d'Artagnan had grabbed his hand.

'Don't move, Aramis, keep still, you'll make it worse.'

Make what worse? Aramis knew he had made a mistake bringing them towards the rocks. And now something was worse.

Aramis was aware of d'Artagnan shifting next to him. He felt the man's hand on his side before another explosion of pain. A hand over his mouth smothered any cry he could make he shifted, confused at the assault before remembering that it could only be d'Artagnan.

'You're injured,' said d'Artagnan, sounding oddly calm considering how much pain he must have been in himself.

Aramis opened his eyes as the hand was taken from his mouth, he looked at d'Artagnan who looked down at Aramis body. Following his gaze, Aramis saw what had caused him to almost scream in pain. A stick had become embedded in his left side, his shirt must have become untucked as they fell and the offending piece of tree had impaled his skin, he had no idea how deeply. A quick assessment told him it was not near any vital organ and would not leave him permanently injured, but it would leave him in pain and if the wound were not cleaned well, he could, and probably would get an infection.

The stick was protruding a few inches out of him, Aramis just stared at it for a few seconds before d'Artagnan got his attention by waving his hand in front of his face.

'What do I do?'

Aramis looked at him, blinking a few times. What should d'Artagnan do?

'I think, it should be taken out...would be better to be able to clean it, but,' Aramis paused looking back up the slope, 'doubt we've got time.'

D'Artagnan looked him in the eyes for a few seconds before looking back at the offending article that was causing them both an issue at that moment. Aramis wondered if his friend had been able to push away his own pain, the energy from the fall and suddenly being the abler of the two of them must have been helping him to focus.

'Just grab it and pull it...but please don't leave any in there, don't snap it…' Aramis was panting for breath.

'This is going to hurt,' said d'Artagnan unnecessarily.

Aramis nodded as he watched d'Artagnan take a firm grasp of the stick. He screwed his eyes shut and held his breath. Following the instruction, d'Artagnan pulled the stick from Aramis swiftly. Aramis could not help crying out in pain, again d'Artagnan was forced to smother the sound, pushing him back to the ground when he tried to move away.

D'Artagnan kept Aramis pinned down for several seconds. Aramis knew, between the waves of pain, that his friend was waiting for him to settle down. He wished he could calm himself quicker.

He realised d'Artagnan was no longer holding him down, had he passed out? A ripping noise drew his attention. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother who was busy tearing the bottom of his own shirt into strips. One strip was wadded up and pressed against the wound before Aramis' left hand was grabbed and pressed on top. Aramis kept his hand in place as d'Artagnan helped him to sit up so that the second strip of fabric could be wrapped around his middle and tied firmly over the wound.

'Thank you,' said Aramis quietly.

D'Artagnan nodded but did not reply. Aramis could see the pain the young Musketeer was in, the headache had returned. D'Artagnan needed to rest. They both needed to rest.

After untangling themselves from the tree that had stopped their fall, they managed to make it to the bottom of the slope with no further problems.

But now, rather than Aramis helping to keep d'Artagnan upright, d'Artagnan was helping to keep Aramis up.

'We need to find somewhere to hide,' said Aramis.

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I couldn't agree more.'

MMMM

They rode, skirting the area the hunters had gone in, trying to get ahead of them.

'This is impossible,' said Athos, 'we have no idea where they could have gone. We do not know how badly injured they are. Where do we start?'

'And,' pointed out Porthos, 'we 'ave to keep away from the men hunting them as well.'

'We would become as much targets as d'Artagnan and Aramis.'

Porthos was quiet for a moment, 'we need help, we need to know the lay of the land. We need to talk to a local.'

'The village,' said Athos, turning his mount towards the small village that Legrand's estate included. 'If his treatment of visitors is anything to go by I doubt he treats his tenants any better.'

MMMM

The injury was not proving as much of a hindrance as he had first thought it would. Once he had become used to the pull of the wound he had adjusted his gait to minimise the pain. D'Artagnan had stopped holding him up and they were moving faster and smoother.

Aramis glanced across at d'Artagnan who was obviously still suffering from his head injury, he was blinking frequently and seemed unfocused. They needed to stop. D'Artagnan needed rest. If he was going to recover from the injury the man needed to stop making it worse by running.

The ravine and the rocky landscape had still not given them anywhere suitable to hide. They had paused a few times when they saw what they thought was the beginnings of a cave, but the rocks were deceptive. The shallow erosion of the rock would not be enough to hide them. Reluctantly they had continued. They had not spoken, neither man had the energy.

All their concentration was going into watching where they stepped and looking for a hiding place.

It was d'Artagnan who pulled them to a stop with a groan. Aramis looked at him concerned before realising his brother was staring ahead and looked defeated. Following d'Artagnan's gaze, Aramis saw what he had seen and closed his eyes sighing.

They had reached a dead end in the rocky landscape. A wall of rock and earth rose in front of them. It was only a few yards high but might as well have been hundreds.

'We can't go back, they'll be after us by now,' said d'Artagnan when he saw Aramis looking back the way they had come.

Aramis nodded, 'and with that many men, some are bound to have come this way.'

He looked back at the rocky wall, before looking at d'Artagnan.

'I don't think we have a choice.'

Stepping forward they reached up and both grabbed a protruding rock with their manacled hands pulling themselves up together. They had no choice but to climb together, with only two foot of chain between them it was going to be a difficult climb.

Stretching up pulled at the injury to his side but Aramis had little choice. He bit back a hiss of pain, but he knew d'Artagnan would guess the climb was going to hurt him. They managed to climb together most of the way. With about two yards still to climb d'Artagnan found himself with nothing to reach up and grab.

'I can probably get to the top,' said Aramis as he visualised which rocks he could use to hold onto.

'I'll move across as you move up,' said d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan managed to get a little more height before allowing Aramis to take the lead. Carefully digging his right foot into a softer area of the earth on the rock wall he pushed himself up. The chain clinking as he did so. D'Artagnan raised his hand as far as he could to give Aramis enough slack to move his left hand up as far as he could go in turn. His side screaming Aramis managed to reach over the top of the ravine with his left hand. He felt about, hoping to find something to grip onto. He started to think there was nothing before his fingers closed around what he guessed was an exposed root. He pulled at the root, it seemed to be solid.

Aramis glanced back at d'Artagnan who nodded. Aramis heaved himself up, trying to stifle a cry, but not succeeding very well. He swung his left leg up and over the ravine edge as he continued to pull himself up. Shuffling in what he suspected was a most inelegant manner he managed to pull his right leg over the edge as well. Once he was satisfied he was settled he looked back down to d'Artagnan who had been forced to stretch his left arm high above him.

'Take your time,' Aramis said as he watched d'Artagnan trying to work out his best route.

The younger Musketeer carefully moved his left leg across before pushing himself up and trying to find a solid area to put his right foot. As he was about to push up again when the rock his left foot was on shifted.

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis with shock as he slipped, losing what little grip he had with his right hand at the same time.

D'Artagnan could not fall far as he was attached to Aramis by the manacles. The force of the sudden stop of d'Artagnan pulled at the manacle around Aramis' wrist. He had been holding the chain, but it slipped when d'Artagnan fell. The metal dug into his wrist. As he was forced to take d'Artagnan's full weight his shoulder felt like it was going to be pulled out of joint and the wound to his side radiated out enough pain that Aramis wished he could pass out.

Aramis had to fight to stay conscious knowing that if he did pass out, he might not be able to keep himself at the top of the ravine. If he fell, they would both fall and the consequences of that would be catastrophic.

MMMM


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note: I'm not a medic. But I know that d'Artagnan is coping well with his concussion. I'm claiming poetic licence.**

Chapter Five

When his foot slipped d'Artagnan had tried to keep hold of the ravine wall with his hands alone, but the sudden movement had pulled at his hands and he had lost all contact with the wall. He could feel himself falling for a fraction of a second before he was jerked to a stop.

Aramis' yelp of pain told him that the marksman had been forced to take his full weight on his manacled arm. Knowing he would cause his brother further pain but having no other choice, d'Artagnan twisted and swung himself far enough to get a better grip on more sturdy rocks. Once he had pulled himself into the wall again he managed to look up.

Aramis had his eyes screwed shut, pain obvious on his face, his right arm was fully over the edge of the rocky wall and he appeared to be reaching back with his left. D'Artagnan guessed Aramis was still clutching onto whatever he had used to help to haul himself over the edge.

'Hold on,' said d'Artagnan as he started to climb the rest of the way up.

Aramis did not reply.

D'Artagnan found a firm rock to push him up enough to reach the edge of the wall. Aramis did not move his right arm as d'Artagnan moved, he had to push the marksman back as he reached the top. His head was pounding again, the short fall had been agonising. He did not think he would be able to go on much further without passing out.

With a last effort he pulled himself over the edge, Aramis had recovered his wits enough to help him over. They both lay on the ground panting for a few minutes.

'We can't stop here,' Aramis managed to say, 'too exposed.'

D'Artagnan slowly pushed himself up to sit, his world spinning as he did so. If Aramis had not put a hand on his back, he probably would have simply crumpled to the side. He managed to look down at his brother who had not bothered to try sitting. His shirt was not only dirty it was stained with blood from the wound on his side and his right wrist was bleeding where the manacle had dug into the skin when d'Artagnan had fallen.

He looked around spotting a thicket of trees a few hundred yards away. It looked dense with undergrowth and it was dark. It would have to do. If they could get there.

Aramis managed to sit up and looked in the direction of the thicket and nodded. Between them, they helped each other to stand. Aramis pressed his left hand to the wound on his side and allowed d'Artagnan to hold onto his right shoulder to keep himself steady. The world would not stop spinning. D'Artagnan hoped that Aramis could get them both to the thicket before one or both of them passed out.

MMMM

Porthos reined his horse in and slowed to a walk as they approached the village. A small settlement comprising a few well built houses which looked relatively new and some older smaller cottages that looked in need of repair.

A few women watched them walk past, moving away from them as they did. A man was ushering a couple of cows across the centre of the village towards a barn, a woman appeared to be waiting for them. They could see a pail and stool within the barn.

The man, in his forties, looked up at them and with a final nudge of encouragement sent the cows towards the woman. The cows knew the routine and wandered across of their own accord. The woman encouraged the beasts into the barn as she continued to watch as the man approached the Musketeers.

'It would be better if I was not seen talking to you Monsieurs,' said the man before either of them could speak. 'I think I know why are here. Meet me by the stream in the trees behind me. I'll just speak to my wife and join you.'

The man wandered off towards the barn. Porthos glanced across to Athos who nodded towards the treeline. They made their way across the village, a few more curious villagers watched them go but no one else approached them.

They found the stream the man had mentioned, both men dismounted and allowed the horses to drink. Athos refilled their water skins as they waited.

The man arrived a few minutes later. He wore dark blue breeches, with black fabric patches across the knees. His shirt was sweat streaked with tatty cuffs and collar. But the man did not look underfed and appeared fit.

'Voclain,' he said as he reached them. 'I've lived in the village my entire life. Since Legrand's grandfather was the owner.'

Voclain shook both of their hands before he continued.

'I'm guessing you're looking for your comrades? Both tall, dark-haired, one with a hat, one without?'

Porthos nodded.

'He took them.'

'We gathered that much,' said Athos, 'what we need to know is how long they may have before they are caught?'

Voclain shook his head, 'he's been hunting people for years, but I don't think he's had trained soldiers before. It's usually unfortunate people passing through. People who probably won't be missed. He's rather taken a chance with your friends. Most people last a few hours, there's usually a lot of noise when the hunt is finished. The losers all fire their weapons into the air in salute to the winner, which is generally Legrand.'

'We saw 'im start the hunt,' said Porthos, 'he said one of our friends was injured.'

'The younger one, they knocked him out. Nothing neither of them could have done to stop it. The other one remonstrated but was threatened.'

Voclain paused for a moment.

'Stay with us tonight, it's going to be too dark for you to try to find them now. My wife and I, she's lived here her entire life as well, we can talk you through the landscape. Perhaps you will be able to work out your friends' likely route?'

Porthos could tell the man was sincere, they had already realised that they would not be able to continue to look for d'Artagnan and Aramis when it got dark. They did not know the area. What the man was proposing made sense.

'What will you gain from helping us?' asked Athos.

'You're the King's men...you will be able to put a stop to this, to him. Sometimes the unfortunate man being hunted runs through the village and begs for help. Any of us who offer help are evicted, or worse. Legrand's vindictive, when I was a boy his grandfather was such a gentle soul…'

'Why have none of you reported this to the authorities?'

'A couple of men tried, they went to Paris, they tried to speak to people, but no one would listen. When they returned Legrand had been sent word and was waiting for them. He had them hanged. In the centre of the village. We were not allowed to take the bodies down for a month.'

Voclain gazed off into the distance, he blinked a few times, 'one of them was my brother.'

'Are you putting yourself in danger offering us shelter?' asked Porthos, 'we could easily camp.'

'No, none of the villagers will say anything unless they are forced to. But the less they know the better.'

Athos thought for a moment before speaking again, 'if you are sure.'

Voclain nodded, 'there's another reason we would like him dealt with…'

Porthos nodded for the man to go on.

'Our son, Gilbert, he works at the house. Legrand won't let him come to see us. And I hate to say we are too...scared...to go to him. Legrand practically forced him to go there to work. Our boy, he's small for his age so was not much use to us as a labourer. Legrand said he was doing us a favour by giving him a job. My wife and I we want him back with us.'

'I saw a young man when we were there,' said Porthos. 'We'll do what we can to restore him to you.'

'Thank you,' said Voclain with a nod to both Musketeers.

MMMM

D'Artagnan slowly opened his eyes. It took him a few moments to remember what had happened and how he had ended up where he was. He lifted his left hand and looked at the manacle realising it was exactly as he remembered.

His vision was clear though, the headache had finally abated. He slowly sat up being careful not to disturb Aramis who was still sleeping next to him.

D'Artagnan remembered the horrible stumbled walk to the thicket of trees. They had managed to push themselves deep into the undergrowth, both men exhausted and in pain. Aramis had allowed him to redress the wound on his side before they both lay down on the ground, fortunately softened by decaying leaf litter. He guessed they had both been asleep in minutes. In ideal circumstances, they should have taken it in turns to keep watch but they were not in ideal circumstances. Neither man would have been able to remain awake for long after they had stopped, they just had to hope they would not be found.

Peering through the undergrowth d'Artagnan could see that it was dawn. They had slept for several hours, which explained why he was finally able to think straight. He hoped it would last. At least one of them was relatively fit again. But unlike his head injury, Aramis was not going to recover with simple rest. He needed to be seen to by a doctor, or at the very least have the wound cleaned properly. And both of them had injuries to their manacled wrists. His own was grazed and bruised and Aramis was bruised and bleeding from their misadventure in the ravine.

He did not want to wake the marksman and as he could not hear anything that sounded like the men hunting them he saw no reason to rouse him. Looking at their wrists he wondered if there was anything he could do. His already torn shirt was beyond saving and had already been employed in dealing with Aramis' injury. D'Artagnan tore off two more strips. He wrapped one around his right wrist, the padding, he hoped would prevent further injury.

D'Artagnan wished they had access to some water to clean the wounds, but he hoped they could at least stop them getting any worse. He gently lifted Aramis' left hand and after slipping the manacle a couple of inches up his arm began to wrap the second strip of fabric around the still bleeding wound on his brother's wrist.

Aramis moaned and tried to pull away from d'Artagnan.

'Sorry,' d'Artagnan said as he reached out to still the confused man, 'I'm just trying to stop it getting worse.'

'Oh...thank you,' replied the marksman as he pushed himself up to sit. 'Your head?'

'Better now, thank you,' replied d'Artagnan.

'We should probably get moving. It's a shame we slept right through the night, but we probably needed it.'

D'Artagnan nodded. The cover of darkness would have helped them to evade capture, but both the hunted and the hunters were now at the same disadvantage.

They struggled to their feet, d'Artagnan steadied Aramis when he winced in pain. He suspected the marksman would struggle to get moving again after a night out in the open. It had not been too cold during the night, but the exposure would have left his injured friend stiff. Aramis held his right arm across himself.

'Is it bad?' asked d'Artagnan looking at his friend with concern.

'Not your fault,' Aramis reminded him, 'but, yes it is...uncomfortable, I think the muscles have been strained.'

D'Artagnan wished he could agree that it was not his fault, but if he had not slipped Aramis would not have quite as many ailments as he now did.

He turned to start pushing their way out of the spinney. His movement was stopped by Aramis grabbing him and pointing towards the daylight. Three men were walking towards their hiding place. Both Musketeers froze. They did not want to give their position away.

The men who had all removed their hoods were obviously together. One was older than the other two, d'Artagnan guessed he was the father to the others. Was he introducing his sons to the sport of hunting people for money? D'Artagnan wished that he recognised the man so that, if they escaped, he could see that the man was brought to justice.

The men drew closer. The older man was looking at the spinney. They examined an area a few yards from the point that he and Aramis had pushed their way in. If they moved to the right the men might see the inevitable telltale signs that they were hiding there.

Both Musketeers watched silently, knowing they would not be able to outrun the men; they were effectively trapped in their own hiding place.

MMMM


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The older man was pointing out to his sons how the bushes and twigs would have been disturbed if anything had gone past. D'Artagnan glanced to the right, Aramis tightened his grip on his shoulder. They could not defend themselves they were totally at the mercy of chance. If the man, who seemed to be an accomplished tracker walked a few yards in the wrong direction he would see where they had entered the spinney.

Both Musketeers were breathing quickly, as one of the sons took a few steps towards the spot. But the father called him back and pointed towards another spinney which he told them looked more likely to be the prey's hiding place.

The men walked off, the son that had been about to discover them glanced back a few times. As they got further away both Musketeers exhaled with relief.

'That was too close,' said Aramis. 'We need to get help. I think we should head to the village.'

'Is that wise?' asked d'Artagnan, 'What if they turn us in? What if some of the men are already there?'

'We can observe from a distance for a bit...but neither of us is in much of a state to get too far. I'm...injured and we're both exhausted.'

D'Artagnan had to admit his friend was right. He began to push his way out of the spinney. They paused for a few minutes before emerging completely. They waited until the three men who had almost found them were out of sight and after carefully checking in every direction they started to walk towards the village.

D'Artagnan knew it was several miles to the village, Legrand had a large estate. He estimated it would take them a couple of hours to walk there, especially as they were both tired and they had to keep an eye out for the hunting men. The only thing that really went in their favour was the size of the estate. The thirty men who were hunting them would be spread out.

The chain linking them together was another hindrance. It meant they had to stay together. They could not separate. If any of the hunters found them they could not split up to make it harder for them to be caught.

He looked at his wrist, the makeshift bandage he had put on earlier was already marked from the rusty manacle. Aramis' wrist was in much the same state. If they spotted a water source they needed to clean their wounds and drink their fill. D'Artagnan was thirsty and he suspected Aramis was as well.

All in all their mission was not going well.

MMMM

Sarah, Voclain's wife, had fed them both well and sat with her husband by the small hearth for the evening. The couple had spent several hours describing the landscape, outlining places that would be good for a man to hide and where he could be run down by the hunters.

Voclain had described how he had seen a few of the hunted men being caught over the years. Depending on which of the hunters caught the prey, would dictate how they were killed. Legrand, who caught the most men, favoured shooting them whilst Samson, the blond man who was a favourite of Legrand, was more sadistic. Voclain had told them that Samson liked to beat the men to death. Sarah had shaken her head in disgust as her husband spoke.

'They are cruel men, Monsieurs,' she had said, 'if he were to leave, I think anyone who took on the land would be an improvement.'

'Be assured, madam,' said Athos, 'we will do all that we can to put a stop to Legrand's activity. The King will not tolerate this type of activity.'

Athos was not sure how the King would react, but something would be done, even if Treville had to persuade the King to do it. What was more pressing for Porthos and he was to ensure the safety of their currently missing brothers.

The morning was warm. It was a small mercy to the hunted men that the risk of exposure to the elements was low. It would have no doubt been an uncomfortable night for the pair, but they were not unused to sleeping under the stars. But with d'Artagnan injured and no doubt both being bruised and battered from their run from the hunters, Athos still worried for their welfare.

Porthos had suggested they try to find Legrand and follow him as he seemed to win the hunt most often. They had surmised that the landowner was cheating somehow. He probably deliberately lost on occasion so that the other hunters would not stay away from an impossible bet.

After removing their uniforms, they mounted up and started out, following the directions of Voclain to a possible spot that Legrand would be hunting. They knew that they would be recognised by Legrand and Samson if they got too close, but with their uniforms, they would be recognised as soldiers by all of the hunting men.

Porthos spotted the signs of several horses moving along the trail they were following. They could tell the horses had been passed recently and one of the horses was a few hands bigger than the others, a good sign that they were following Legrand and his band of men.

The wood they were moving through was bigger than the others. Usually, Athos found the escape from the city was welcomed, a ride through the countryside a respite from the noise and dirt of Paris. But not under their current circumstances.

Porthos slowed his horse to a walk, Athos followed suit looking towards the man who was listening intently.

'I heard someone speaking, it sounded like Samson,' he whispered.

'We will follow at a distance,' said Athos as the two men changed their direction to circle around the hunters.

MMMM

Porthos led them slowly, carefully to a spot where the foliage would keep them hidden. They had moved to a spot out of earshot of the men but where they could still see them. Legrand was off his horse looking at the ground intently. Samson was looking further into the wood. Two, still hooded men were waiting on their horses.

Legrand looked up as a third hooded man approached. The hooded man spoke to Legrand who looked annoyed, pushing the newcomer back a few paces before pointing back the way the man had come. The man turned and ran off.

Samson walked his and Legrand's horses forward, Legrand mounted up and the four men cantered in the same direction. The two hooded men lagged behind a little as if keeping a respectful distance.

'I wonder what that was about?' said Porthos as they picked their way through the wood to follow the landowner.

'Legrand did not seem happy about something,' replied Athos.

They reached the area Legrand had been studying. Porthos dismounted and took a closer look.

'I think someone has been through here on foot recently, but it ain't either of them, the tread of the boots is too worn.'

'That must have been what Legrand was looking at, hopefully he's following the wrong trail.'

Porthos nodded as he mounted up, 'I think that other man, he's how Legrand wins so frequently. I think they have someone follow the prey from the start and report their location. Perhaps the man had lost them, it would explain why Legrand was so annoyed.'

'Let's hope so,' said Athos.

MMMM

It felt, to Aramis, as if they had been walking for hours but he knew they had not. Twice they had been forced to hide as hooded men passed by. A couple on horseback who were moving too fast to notice their poor hiding place and a single man walking who although a few hundred yards away would have seen them if they had not flattened themselves to the ground.

'I would cheerfully shoot Legrand,' said d'Artagnan as he had helped Aramis back up.

'I know,' replied the marksman.

They continued in silence for a while all the time keeping a careful lookout around them. When they were exposed on open land they tried to move quickly but with both of them tired and Aramis forced to move carefully due to his injury they were not much faster than when they were walking through the wooded areas.

The small wood they were currently walking through was open enough that they could see clearly around them. Although it did not have many places to hide. If they came across any of the hunters the best they would be able to do would be to lie down and pull the leaf litter over them and hope they were not spotted.

Both men sighed when they heard the unmistakable trickle of a water. Changing their direction, they reached the small, shallow stream and knelt beside it. D'Artagnan steadied Aramis as he leaned forward to drink, trying to hide a wince as he did so.

As he took his turn to drink he was aware of Aramis unwinding the fabric bandage from his wrist. Aramis spent a few minutes washing the dried blood from the wound. D'Artagnan did the same.

'I think it's your turn to ruin a shirt,' said d'Artagnan with a grin.

Aramis looked down at his already filthy shirt, 'not much good as bandage material, but we've nothing else.'

They spent a few minutes redressing their injured wrists before Aramis undid the piece of fabric from around his middle, covering the injury to his side. He stifled a cry as he pulled the wadded-up cloth from the wound. Dried blood causing the fabric to stick to his skin. D'Artagnan pushed his friend to lean back so that he could clean the wound. Aramis did not protest as he tried to settle his breathing.

'It's not bleeding anymore, but it doesn't look good,' said d'Artagnan as he covered the puncture wound with a fresh piece of fabric ripped from Aramis' shirt.

'I'm not surprised,' replied Aramis as he sat up to allow d'Artagnan to tie the makeshift bandage around him again.

He watched as d'Artagnan hid a grin. When d'Artagnan noticed he was being watched he smiled and lifted the chain that linked them together.

'You can't do your usual thing of asking to be left behind...I can't leave you behind, not that I would anyway.'

Aramis tilted his head slightly, 'very true...although if we do manage to get these off I will be insisting that you leave me.'

'We'll see,' said d'Artagnan as he helped Aramis up.

The news that his wound was infected was not good. He had expected it to get infected, they had not been able to clean it quickly enough, but as it got worse it would leave them both at a disadvantage. Aramis had been serious when he told d'Artagnan that he should be left behind. There was no point in them both being found.

Having quenched their thirst, they both managed to move quicker. Aramis wanted to make as much ground as they could before he could not carry on and they were forced to stop.

They reached the edge of the wood and spent, what was now a routine few minutes carefully scanning the area. D'Artagnan shading his eyes against the sun gazed intently forward for a few seconds.

'Looks like a cottage,' he said pointing in the direction he was looking.

Aramis could just make out the small building, 'looks abandoned,' he said as he took in the slightly dilapidated look of the building.

The single storey cottage would have been a sturdy building when it was being maintained. But some time without care had left it looking dirty and broken. The single window on the front of the building was smashed, a shutter hanging loose next to it. The door was open, swinging slightly in the breeze.

But it looked welcoming to the two Musketeers.

MMMM

D'Artagnan led the way into the cottage. A couple of rats scampered away, their claws clacking against the stone floor. There was not much furniture left in the two rooms that made up the cottage. D'Artagnan suspected the locals had picked the place clean after the original occupants had left or died. There was the remains of a paddock outside, but the place had clearly been abandoned for some time.

They looked about, cobwebs and dust covered every surface. The gaze of both men settled on a shelf above a rickety table. Several tools lay on the shelf including a chisel and mallet.

'I'm still not leaving you,' said d'Artagnan as he reached for the tools.

'Perhaps not yet, but, d'Artagnan, you might have to…' replied Aramis, his expression serious.

D'Artagnan shook his head, he wondered for a moment if he should refuse to break the chain. But the marksman was right. Even in the short time since he had spotted the infection to his friends wound Aramis had slowed down. When he had helped Aramis to stand after they had stopped by the stream he had noticed then that the man was feverish. As usual, the marksman was trying to hide how bad he was feeling.

They rested the chain on a window sill, Aramis held it taught as d'Artagnan pressed the chisel against the link closest to the manacle around the marksman's wrist. He raised the mallet and brought it down hard. The chisel sliced through the link.

The pull of the manacle on Aramis' wrist caused the man to hiss, unable to hide the pain it caused him. D'Artagnan had to be quick to stop his friend from crashing to the floor.

'Sorry,' he said as he guided Aramis down.

The marksman had his eyes screwed shut.

'It's alright,' Aramis said after a few seconds, 'it jarred my arm. I'll be fine.'

After pushing Aramis to lean against the wall d'Artagnan began to work the broken link free of the manacle. Once separated he wrapped the end of the chain around his own wrist.

'Don't you want me to do the same for you?' asked Aramis, indicating the hammer and chisel.

'Do you actually think you would be able to?'

Aramis smiled, 'probably not.'

They sat in silence for a few seconds. D'Artagnan could tell Aramis was about to speak but cut him off before he could.

'I'm not leaving you.'

MMMM


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

They continued to follow the men keeping well back and mostly out of sight, relying on their own tracking abilities. As Legrand and the men worked their way through the wood the two hooded men kept back from Legrand and Samson. The two men, who still had their hoods up stopped their horses. Porthos and Athos stopped their own mounts and watched as the two men dismounted and each took a moment to relieve themselves.

Porthos looked at Athos before nodding towards the two men.

'Opportunity not to be missed I think,' he said before quickly dismounting himself.

Athos followed him. They silently approached the two men, the undergrowth of the wood smothering any sound. The first man was doing his breeches up as they reached them. Without a word, both Musketeers grabbed the men from behind.

Porthos wrapped his arm around the hooded man's neck and squeezed. The man scrabbled at the arm holding him. But Porthos had both a height and size advantage over the man who could do little to prevent himself from becoming unconscious. Pothos maintained the pressure long enough to end the man's life.

Athos had employed a different tactic, plunging a dagger deep into the other man's neck before he had a chance to cry out. To prevent the cloak becoming saturated in blood Athos quickly pulled it off the man leaving the unfortunate hunter to die clutching at his neck as his life pumped out of the wound soaking into the ground.

The Musketeers looked at the two bodies in front of them. The men were not innocent, they did not feel guilty for killing them.

'We need to catch up with Legrand,' said Athos as he swung the hooded cloak around his shoulders.

Porthos nodded as he pulled the cloak off the man he had killed, 'let's just hope their lack of attention to these two continues.'

After tying their own horses up and hiding the bodies they mounted the two hooded men's horses and followed in the direction Legrand and Samson had taken. They found the two hunters stopped again. Samson was off his horse this time looking at the ground.

Legrand twisted on his horse as they approached he nodded to them but did not speak. Porthos wondered if the two men they were masquerading as were known to Legrand or not, he guessed not, as they had kept their hoods up continually.

Now that they were with the man who would most likely find Aramis and d'Artagnan they were in a better position to prevent their brothers from coming to further harm.

MMMM

Aramis had fallen asleep after d'Artagnan told him that they were going to remain in the cottage for a while. The marksman had looked like he was going to protest for a few seconds before shaking his head and leaning back against the wall closing his eyes.

D'Artagnan had wondered around the dilapidated cottage looking for anything that would help them. He tucked the chisel into his belt, if necessary he could employ it as a weapon. A threadbare blanket at the bottom of a rotting chest was the only other vaguely useful item he found.

He lay the blanket over Aramis who did not stir. The marksman was shivering slightly despite his increased temperature. D'Artagnan wished there was more he could do. Much as the cottage was giving them better shelter he knew they could not stay where they were. It was too obvious as a hiding place. Any of the hunters who knew the area would know about the cottage. He suspected it had already been checked by some of the men and was likely to be checked again. D'Artagnan would allow Aramis a little more time to rest before making his move. And if he had to force Aramis he would. They were not at the point that he would even begin to consider leaving his brother behind. Although that point might yet come d'Artagnan thought with a shake of his head.

He wandered to the door and stepped out of the cottage. Making a slow circuit of the building he looked carefully at the horizon in all directions. Woods lined the rear of the cottage and open ground surrounded the rest. The usual stands of trees dotted the area in the distance, d'Artagnan wondered if Legrand had landscaped his grounds to make for a more interesting hunting area?

There was still no sign of them being followed or of the other hunters passing by.

But their luck would not hold, of that, d'Artagnan was sure.

MMMM

Now that they were closer to Legrand they could hear his conversations with Samson. The man did not speak to them much, Porthos guessed that was to prevent him from knowing which men were with him. Once the hunt was over and the men dispersed to their own homes if they were to meet again Legrand would not know if he was with a fellow hunter or not. The anonymity was the draw for the hooded men. Porthos wanted to rip the hoods from all the men and find out which nobility were joining in the despicable act.

'When we catch them,' Legrand was saying as he looked across to Samson, 'I want to have a little fun with them before we kill them...see just how resilient a Musketeer can be.'

'Which one would break first?' asked Samson.

'Difficult to tell, the younger one was already carrying a head injury when we let them go...but we know that since then the older one has been injured.'

Porthos looked across at Athos, unable to see his friends face but knowing he would look as concerned. How did Legrand know what state the two hunted men were in?

'We can inflict pain on the injured one first, he will already be weak. The younger one was trying so desperately not to show fear earlier...I look forward to playing them off against each other.'

With both his brothers injured Porthos wondered how they were fairing. They had no idea how bad d'Artagnan's head injury was and now they knew that Aramis was injured as well, but had no idea to what extent. But it seemed the men were still able to move about. They had not been captured by the other hunters. Perhaps Legrand did not know where they were either and was using his tracking skills but the scout that had visited him earlier was merely giving him an update on the state of health of Aramis and d'Artagnan.

Whatever the situation was they needed to find their brothers quickly.

Athos indicated for Porthos to drop back a little so that they could talk. When they were far enough back Athos moved his horse as close to Porthos' as he could.

'We need to find them,' said the swordsman quietly.

'I know,' replied Porthos, 'that man earlier, that spoke to Legrand, he must have been a scout. They've got people watching Aramis and d'Artagnan, our brothers probably don't even know, particularly if they are both injured.'

'And they have been on the run for some time now, they must be exhausted.'

Raised voices ahead made them both look back towards Legrand and Samson.

'If you go on your own you won't find them, you know my skills are far superior. We can't catch them too soon.'

Samson looked annoyed at Legrand's words.

'You don't want someone else finding them,' replied the blond man.

Legrand glared at Samson, who made a dismissive gesture with his hand before turning his horse and moving off.

'Which one should we follow?' said Porthos looking between the two men.

'Legrand is the one who the scouts will come to and if what he just said was correct he is the better tracker of the two of them.'

Porthos nodded as he watched Samson disappear through the woods towards the open space about a hundred yards away.

MMMM

Aramis had taken a few seconds to fully awaken when d'Artagnan had shaken him earlier. He had not realised just how tired the marksman was. Aramis' wound was definitely infected, they had redressed it before they left, there was nothing else they could do. D'Artagnan had pulled Aramis to his feet. Aramis had been forced to hold on to the younger man for a few seconds when a wave of dizziness had washed over him. D'Artagnan could tell his brother was contemplating telling him to leave him behind but changed his mind when d'Artagnan glared at him shaking his head.

Without the chain, it was easier to move through the thicker parts of the wood. They were still heading towards the village, they could not come up with a better plan. The woods offered them good cover.

A pair of hunters had walked within a few feet of them at one point. Both Musketeers had crouched down behind an overgrowth of brambles. One of the men had even stopped to pick a few of the berries.

It was fairly obvious that not all the hunters were seasoned. Some did not seem to know anything about tracking other people. They were aimlessly wandering across Legrand's lands hoping to stumble across the Musketeers.

'You're almost as tired as me,' remarked Aramis as they continued on their way.

D'Artagnan smiled, 'we have been a bit busy.'

They continued making idle conversation as they walked. D'Artagnan knew it would be folly to try to get Aramis to run now that he was fading. He also knew that Aramis was right, he was feeling fatigued. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, anywhere would do, and sleep.

But they had to keep moving until they could find someone who could help them or get off Legrand's land, which d'Artagnan knew was far-reaching.

Aramis stumbled, d'Artagnan grabbed him causing the injured man to cry out in pain. It was telling that Aramis had been unable to stifle the cry. His friend was breathing shallowly but quickly, his eyes shut.

D'Artagnan wanted to give Aramis another chance to rest, but they were in a far too exposed area for that. They were reaching the edge of the wood that had been at the back of the cottage they had stopped in. The trees were thinly spread and there was little other vegetation. A fallen tree could provide somewhere for Aramis to sit for a couple of minutes. D'Artagnan was starting to think he would have to acquiesce to Aramis and leave him behind, but he wanted to find somewhere for his friend to hide before he did that. He would not abandon Aramis where they were.

He had been so caught up in helping Aramis, that he did not notice that they were not alone. Samson was stood a few yards away, his gun held loosely at his side, a sneer playing on his lips. D'Artagnan looked around for Legrand, but the big man was nowhere to be seen.

'Guess I get the money all to myself this time,' said Samson as he raised the gun, aiming in their direction.

D'Artagnan knew that with both of them together the chances of Samson not hitting either of them was slim. He hated to do it, but he pushed Aramis away from him firmly. At the same instant, Samson fired.

The ball hit his left arm, the pain was enough to cause him to stumble back a few steps. It took him a few seconds to refocus, he clutched at his arm, feeling his fingers dampen as blood seeped through them. D'Artagnan did not think the injury was too bad, but it hurt a lot.

Samson was grinning as he slowly reloaded his gun. Slowly was not a good idea, thought d'Artagnan as he charged towards the man. Samson looked startled that his prey had decided to fight back. What did the man expect a soldier to do, stand idly by and wait to be shot?

D'Artagnan knew he had to make short work of the fight. He was tired, still slightly affected by his earlier head injury, and he had now been shot. This was not the time to toy with an opponent. This was a time to employ all the dirty tactics that Porthos had taught him. There was no time for chivalry.

He launched himself at Samson, taking the man to the ground. The air was knocked from his opponent who had dropped his gun in the fall, the weapon skidded away, out of reach. Samson was still wearing a sword and probably had a dagger at the back of his belt but d'Artagnan was not about to give the man a chance to draw either weapon.

The Musketeer pulled back his arm, he punched indiscriminately. His first volley of hits had to count, he knew he would tire quickly. What d'Artagnan needed to do was get Samson into a similar state. If the blond was going to be beaten d'Artagnan would have to tire the man out. They were of equal height and build, they should have been evenly matched. But d'Artagnan had been trained. Samson might have been given some instruction in swordsmanship and shooting, but he carried himself as if he were from noble stock. The man probably did not know how to handle himself in a brawl.

Samson tried to push d'Artagnan off him but was struggling. D'Artagnan knew he had the upper hand, he also knew he had to make sure the man could not pursue them any further. He had two options, he could knock the man out, if he was lucky, tie him up and leave him or he could kill the man.

The first option had too many issues, what if Samson escaped his bonds and was able to come after them again? What if he regained consciousness before d'Artagnan could get himself and Aramis away?

D'Artagnan knew, in the split second it took him to think his options through, that he could only go with the second choice. He had to kill Samson.

The two men continued to fight, Samson was trying to reach his dagger, if he managed to get hold of the weapon d'Artagnan would be at a distinct disadvantage.

D'Artagnan remembered the chain around his wrist, he twisted his hand enough to cause it to slip loose. He used it to whip at Samson who was forced to flinch out of the way of the chain. D'Artagnan struck the man across the face. As he tried to whip him again Samson managed to grab the chain and yank it hard, pulling d'Artagnan's left arm out flat to the side of them. Samson took the momentary let up in the attack to headbutt d'Artagnan and flip them over so that he was on top. Disorientated for a few seconds, the Musketeer blinked as he tried to clear his head. The strike had left him unfocused again, the slight headache he had not been able to shake had been made worse. D'Artagnan realised that he was in trouble now, he was the one at the disadvantage.

Unless…

D'Artagnan had forgotten. But now he remembered.

Samson reached his left hand down to his belt. But d'Artagnan was quicker, at least he hoped he was, if he was not he would be killed…

MMMM

 **Authors note: Dear Reader, I'm off tomorrow, so I could give you the next chapter earlier. Or would you rather wait?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors note: You asked for it earlier...here it is.**

Chapter Eight

The chisel, the one he had used to cut the chain that had linked the manacles between him and Aramis. He had kept hold of it, tucked it into his belt. D'Artagnan could not believe he had forgotten he had a weapon on him. Not a conventional one of course, but still a weapon he could use. And Samson clearly thought he was unarmed.

As his vision cleared from the headbutt Samson had dished out to him d'Artagnan reached his own hand down, beating Samson to the dagger he was going for.

D'Artagnan wrenched the chisel from his belt twisted it in his hand and plunged it into the other man's side. Piercing his lung. The effect was instant. Samson sagged over him, his body becoming heavy as the man tried to suck in air.

In his fatigued state, it took a few seconds for d'Artagnan to push the man off him. Samson rolled onto his back, the chisel still protruding from his chest. The blond man looked at d'Artagnan with accusing pain filled eyes, he tried to speak but ended up coughing. His hands clutched at the chisel pulling it from his body. The action seemed to make the man's fight for air harder. His body arched. He dropped the chisel and tried to grasp at some unseen thing.

D'Artagnan had managed to push himself up to sit, he watched the anguished gasping breaths of the man for a few more seconds as he managed to get his own breathing to settle back to normal.

Samson continued to stare at him, his mouth moving but no words were formed. After a few more seconds his tense body flopped back to the ground and his head fell to the side, his eyes no longer focused on him. Samson was dead.

D'Artagnan looked down at himself, the wound to his arm had left his already ruined shirt now covered with blood. He ripped the fabric on his sleeve enough to look at his arm. He had been lucky, the ball had not penetrated his arm, it had ploughed a furrow across the skin, the blood had slowed and was already clotting. He knew the wound would need to be cleaned and dressed, but there was nothing he could do, much the same as they had been unable to do anything about Aramis' wound.

Aramis.

D'Artagnan looked around realising the marksman had not said anything. He had not really expected Aramis to help him fight Samson, but his silence was a worry.

The injured man was lying sprawled across the ground on his side facing away, quite still.

D'Artagnan scrambled across to his friend. He pulled Aramis onto his back. The man was unconscious. The wound to his side was bleeding again.

He had no choice now, he had to leave Aramis behind. There was no way he could carry the man, not when he did not really know where he was going himself. And his wish to find a better place for Aramis to hide was not going to be granted. The fallen tree a few yards away was the only place d'Artagnan could use. He looked about himself carefully. There was no sign of any other hunters, but he was sure it would only be a matter of time before someone turned up.

Samson's body would need to be hidden as well. A muddy ditch with stagnant water ran through the wood a few yards in the other direction, it would have to do, thought d'Artagnan.

But before he moved the body he pulled the man's doublet off. After untucking the dead man's shirt he ripped strips of fabric to replace the ones they had made using their own shirts. D'Artagnan rewrapped both his and Aramis' wrists. Then changed the dressing to the infected wound on Aramis' side. Lastly, he wrapped a piece of cloth around the injury he had to his own arm.

He hooked his arms under Aramis' and dragged him over to the fallen tree, unceremoniously pushing him as tightly against the dead wood as he could. After covering Aramis with Samson's doublet, he pushed some of the dead leaves up against Aramis in an attempt to hide him from prying eyes. It was not much but it was the best he could do.

Stepping back, d'Artagnan took a few seconds to look at his work, he noticed the marks on the ground where the fight had taken place and the drag marks to the hiding places of his brother and the dead man. D'Artagnan grabbed a spindly fallen branch that still had leaves on it and used it as an improvised broom to rub away the obvious marks.

With a last look at the spot he had left Aramis, d'Artagnan turned and continued his now solo journey to the village.

MMMM

'We don't need him,' said Legrand as Samson disappeared into the distance, 'if you two prove yourselves today I may take you on as my right-hand men.'

Porthos made a gesture of thanks.

Legrand pushed the horse into a canter and led them via a different path out of the wood. Legrand went back to ignoring the two hooded men that followed him. Porthos was glad, they would be forced to act if their flimsy charade was found out.

'Monsieur Legrand.'

Porthos looked across to the panting man that was emerging from the woods to their left. The hooded man, they guessed the same man they had seen earlier reached Legrand who looked down at the man expectantly.

'Well?'

'They are not far from here, but sir, Samson...he is closing in on their position. He might have already found them. I passed him as I was coming to you. He didn't see me.'

Porthos glanced across to Athos who was watching the exchange. Porthos did not need to be able to see his friend to know that he would be concerned. Porthos certainly was. If Samson reached Aramis and d'Artagnan before they did the injured, exhausted, men might not be able to defend themselves.

The scout spent a few seconds telling Legrand the location that he had last seen Aramis and d'Artagnan. They were heading in the vague direction of the village using the various stands of trees and small woods as cover. Crucially they had managed to cut the chain that had been keeping them together. Porthos was pleased with how much that piece of information annoyed Legrand. His prey was no longer hobbled, had they not been injured Porthos suspected the two Musketeers would have made good their escape.

Porthos shifted slightly on his horse, eager to get on and find his missing brothers. Athos leaned across and spoke quietly.

'We do not know the area, we have to stay with Legrand.'

'But Samson could find them first…'

Athos shook his head, 'I know, I am concerned for their wellbeing as well, but we need to wait.'

Porthos knew that what Athos was saying was correct. They could not head off with no direction, they had to hope that Samson did not find their friends first.

Legrand waited long enough to ascertain he knew where Aramis and d'Artagnan were before moving off, urging his horse into a gallop. Porthos and Athos followed, the scout stood back watching them go. Porthos wondered who the scout was, a servant? A villager that was in the landowners pay? It did not matter, the man was clearly not one of the hunters, he was doing as he was ordered.

They followed Legrand who tore out of the wood and across the open grasslands, a slight undulation taking them down and then up towards another stand of trees, not big enough to be a wood, but bigger than the small thickets that Legrand appeared to have cultivated in the area. They did not see any other hunters as they crossed the open space.

Legrand was determined in his dash, he had not looked back at either of them, it was as if they were nothing now. His only wish was to win the game.

In a way, Porthos hoped that Legrand did find his brothers first. They would be there to stop anything from happening. If Samson got to Aramis and d'Artagnan first they would be on their own.

MMMM

D'Artagnan stumbled again, he blinked. He just wanted to rest. Now that he was on his own and not having to ensure that Aramis was keeping up he found that his own fatigue and assortment of pains were really making themselves known. The slight wound to his arm throbbed. His head ached. And his whole body generally felt painful. He was filthy and cold, despite the continued good weather. It had been a cool night, but they had kept close to each other to keep warm, and they had been moving fast most of the time. But now he was forced to move slower, and he was tired, and he hurt, and he was worried about Aramis, and he did not really know what to think anymore.

A protruding root proved too much of an obstacle for him. He fell, hard, to the ground. For a few seconds, he did not bother to try to move. He contemplated just closing his eyes and giving up. But he could not do that, not whilst his brother needed his help. D'Artagnan had hated leaving Aramis but knew he had no choice.

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, his head bowed. A rumble of something vibrated the ground under his hands. It took him a few seconds to realise something was approaching him. D'Artagnan managed to lift his head, he blinked trying to clear his vision but failed. A figure was approaching him.

He had failed.

One of the hunters had found him. He threw up a silent apology to Aramis, and wondered for a second if the marksman would ever be found?

'Easy,' said a voice, 'I'm not going to hurt you...I met a couple of your friends yesterday. They're looking for you.'

D'Artagnan felt warm a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back to kneel. He managed to look the man in the face. He was smiling as he spoke.

'Let's get you off the road, get on my cart and I will cover you up in case any of the hunters come passed.'

D'Artagnan paused for a second looking at the man. Was it a trap? He wished he could get his mind to settle, he could not think straight.

'Aramis,' he managed to say.

'Your friend?' asked the man.

D'Artagnan managed to nod.

'Do you know where he is?'

D'Artagnan nodded again.

'Let's get you safe, then I will come back out for him. It's too dangerous for you to stay out here.'

The man helped d'Artagnan up, he was not sure if he should trust the man or not. He decided not to tell him where Aramis was until he was sure of the man's intentions.

After helping d'Artagnan up onto the cart the man threw a cover over him before climbing up behind the horses and urging them on.

The rumble of the cart, the noise of the horses, the movement. D'Artagnan screwed his eyes shut. The relief of unconsciousness called to him, he tried to fight it. But knew he would not win.

MMMM

The sound of a horse approaching caused Aramis to open his eyes again. He guessed he had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. He was sure the shadows had moved.

When he had first awoken he had been very disorientated. In truth, he was still not entirely sure where he was, but he was lying down, and that felt good. He felt hot, he felt cold, his body ached, and he was thirsty.

Aramis remembered why he had woken. A horse coming to a stop near him.

He tried to look to his right, but his view was blocked by decaying bark. Why was he lying next to a fallen tree? Thinking about his situation made his head hurt. Perhaps it would be easier to not think. Not forever, he was in no mood to die, but just to not be thinking for a little while might be good. Not to feel the burn of pain on his side and his wrist. Not to feel the tension in his arm where he was sure he had strained every muscle the previous day when d'Artagnan had slipped.

The sound of someone dismounting from a horse, their feet thumping to the ground, the horse moving off a few steps.

Should he make his presence known? Or should he stay where he was, with the decaying bark of a tree trunk blocking his view?

A few seconds later it did not matter, his world suddenly became more than just the rough bark of the tree trunk.

He was grabbed, very roughly, and dragged from his spot on the ground. He whimpered in pain. Whimpered. Not a very manly, Musketeer, thing to do. But whoever had grabbed him was pulling him by the wrist, the hand squeezing him where the manacle had dug into his flesh. He was being dragged by the right arm. The arm that already hurt. He could not stop himself from being pulled along. He could not focus his eyes, the world spun. The wound to his side was jarred by the movement, pain radiated out adding to his misery.

Aramis was dropped on the ground. He was aware of movement around him but could not work out what was happening. Someone was yelling, but he could not make out the words.

MMMM

Athos and Porthos had lost a little ground on Legrand as he pushed his horse into the small wood. The man knew exactly where he was going. When they lost sight of him behind a slight rise in the pathway they pressed their horses onwards.

The sight that greeted them as they reached the top of the rise was most unwelcome.

Legrand had found Aramis and was in the process of pulling his gun from his belt. He was shouting at their brother.

Aramis was lying on the ground at Legrand's feet. Athos did not think his brother was capable of standing from the looks of him. His shirt was torn and dirty, a mixture of mud and blood. He had a dirty bandage tied around his stomach and a second around his wrist. Both bandages were bloody. A manacle was attached to his right wrist, it had slipped up his arm a little and had probably been the cause of the injury to his wrist. The man looked exhausted. He did not resist Legrand in any way.

'Where's the other one?' shouted Legrand, the gun wavering in Aramis' direction.

Legrand pushed at Aramis' side with his foot causing the marksman to try, in vain, to move away.

'I wanted you both. You were to be my greatest prize.'

Athos and Porthos were closing in on the two men. But Athos was not sure if they would be quick enough. They both watched, horrified, as Legrand aimed his gun at Aramis.

MMMM


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Legrand fired the gun. Had he not been slightly distracted by the wounds to his head and back his aim might have been true. As it was the ball only just missed Aramis who had in a moment of clarity twisted to the side, crying out in pain as he did so.

When they had seen the man aim his gun at Aramis, both approaching Musketeers had pulled and aimed their own guns. There was no choice, they were going to save Aramis over some upstart landowner who thought he was above everyone else.

Athos' shot had hit the man in the head, Porthos had hit him in the back. Either shot would have proved quickly fatal. Both shots had the desired effect. Legrand was dead and no longer a threat to their injured brother.

Legrand had fallen to the side of Aramis who was now lying curled up, his eyes closed, breathing fast.

Porthos reached him first skidding to his knees next to his friend. Aramis did not look good. He was clearly showing signs of fever. Porthos grabbed Aramis' hand and squeezed gently.

'You're safe, he's dead. Aramis? Are you still with us? Open your eyes.'

'D'Artagnan?' was the worrying word that Aramis managed to say.

Porthos looked around, there was no sign of the younger man. He looked back at Athos who was stood behind him. Athos nodded and started to search their immediate surroundings.

'No,' said Aramis, who was now enjoying a surge of energy, 'gone. He's gone. He had to leave me behind, I think. Samson was here…'

Athos returned to their side and crouched down.

'Samson is dead. His body has been hidden in a ditch over there.'

Athos nodded in the direction he had come from. Porthos looked back at Aramis who was unfocused again.

'We can't stay here,' said Porthos. 'We'll get him to safety, then start looking for d'Artagnan again.'

Athos nodded his agreement, 'I am sure Monsieur Voclain will take Aramis off our hands whilst we continue to search.'

Aramis managed to focus on Athos for a few seconds, 'take me off your hands...sorry I'm such a….burden,' he said.

Athos managed a brief smile, before leaning forward to help Porthos pull the marksman upright.

'Monsieur Voclain has a lovely wife, who is bound to enjoy looking after you,' said Porthos as he supported most of his friend's weight whilst Athos brought the horses closer.

With little ceremony and a lot of pain caused to Aramis, they managed to get him onto Porthos' horse. Athos mounted up and gathered Legrand's horse's reins. They left the body of Legrand where he lay. A message to the other hunters.

It was clearly an uncomfortable journey for Aramis who tried and failed to hide the pain he was in. The man felt warm as he leaned on Porthos. Aramis may have been safe from the hunters but Porthos knew he had another battle to wage before he could fully recover. He hoped they could see him through it.

The two uninjured men continued to scan the area. Now that Legrand and Samson were dead, Porthos wondered what the other hunters would do? Would they return to Legrand's house? He hoped not, that would leave the downtrodden servants vulnerable. Hopefully, news of Legrand's death would spread, and the other hunters would leave the area. But they would not take any chances whilst d'Artagnan was still missing.

They skirted the village so that they could reach the home of Voclain, which sat on the outskirts. A horse and cart were stood at the rear of the barn, as they approached they saw Sarah hurry from the house towards the barn. She paused looking at them for a few moments before a smile spread across her face. She gestured towards the barn before continuing towards it.

Porthos looked at Athos who shrugged his shoulders before heading towards the barn.

'He's up there,' said Sarah as they entered the barn.

Porthos said, 'who?'

'D'Artagnan, my husband found him and brought him here…'

Sarah did not get a chance to finish speaking before she was interrupted.

'Is he alright?' d'Artagnan said as looked down at them from the hayloft.

'He's alive, which will do for now,' replied Porthos, looking up at the younger man who did not look much better than the marksman.

Athos had dismounted and was helping Porthos to get Aramis down from the horse. The marksman was still conscious but obviously struggling to remain so.

'If you can get him up there, you will be out of sight and we can lock the doors. The hunters won't search the barn if we tell them it's not been open. Nobody in the village will talk.'

Porthos watched as Athos and Sarah helped Aramis to climb the ladder up to the loft. It was slow progress and the marksman would probably be completely worn out by the activity, but they could hide themselves more effectively in the loft.

Voclain appeared beside Porthos a bucket of water in one hand and a steaming metal jug which contained boiling water held in the other.

'Legrand is dead,' said Porthos to Voclain who stared at him.

A look of relief spread across the farmers face.

'Thank you, monsieur.'

'It's the least we could do, you both risked yourselves to help us yesterday...and again now. What do you think the other men will do, with no leader?'

Voclain thought for a moment, 'Samson will probably take over…'

Porthos shook his head, 'he's dead as well, I think d'Artagnan killed him.'

Voclain glanced up to the hayloft, taking in the information.

'I don't know who the other men are, I think there is a mixture of common men and nobles. I doubt any will want to be associated with Legrand,' he paused, 'it might take them a while to realise their leader is dead. You could still be in danger tonight. Stay hidden until morning, we can reassess then.'

Porthos nodded, knowing the man was making sense.

'Sarah can help you to treat the injuries to your friends, she was just about to stitch up young d'Artagnan.'

Porthos smiled, 'thank you, Monsieur.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan had found the ride in the back of the cart not only uncomfortable but worrying as well. He had climbed into the back of the cart, allowed the man to throw a sheet over him and ridden away without truly knowing the man's motive.

What if the man was one of the hunters who had merely taken his hooded cloak off to fool him? D'Artagnan decided he had made the right decision not to tell the man where he had left Aramis.

As the cart had rumbled to a stop he had been surprised to hear a woman's voice.

'I thought you would be back earlier.'

The man replied quietly, d'Artagnan could only pick out the odd word, 'Musketeer' being one of them.

'Get him into the barn, hide him in the hayloft. They won't search the barn if we tell them no one's been in there,' said the woman, 'is he injured?'

'Yes,' replied the man, 'it's the one who was hit on the head, the younger one. He's got bandages on his wrist and arm.'

'I'll get something to clean the wounds.'

'And bring my hammer and chisel, it looks like he's got a manacle on his wrist.'

'I hope the other two kill Legrand,' said the woman with hate in her voice.

D'Artagnan had wondered who 'the other two' were. He had hoped it was Athos and Porthos.

Now that his brothers had arrived at the barn, with Aramis, D'Artagnan could finally relax. The more Sarah had told him about what had gone on when he and Aramis had been on the run the more he had realised he was safe. But he had not been able to settle completely knowing that Aramis was still out there and that Athos and Porthos were also in danger by being out there searching for them both.

Sarah had cleaned his injuries and Voclain had managed to free him from the manacle and chain. Sarah's gentle touch had been welcome and comforting after the ordeal he had been through. He was reaching the point, despite his continued worry, where he was falling asleep when his brothers had arrived.

Once they had unceremoniously helped Aramis up to the hayloft, d'Artagnan had moved to sit beside the feverish man. Aramis had acknowledged him with a smile and clasped his hand for a few seconds before succumbing to the fatigue that d'Artagnan knew he had been fighting for some time.

'You should rest as well,' said Sarah as she readied a needle and thread.

D'Artagnan looked at her with a smile, 'I doubt I will be feeling particularly relaxed when you start on me with that.'

Sarah settled herself beside him, 'that's why I'm going to wait until one of them,' she nodded to Athos and Porthos, 'are free to hold you still.'

Porthos looked up from what he was doing, 'once we've cleaned him up, I'll be with you.'

As Aramis had passed out Athos and Porthos were not having to deal with an uncooperative patient. They had already stripped him of his filthy shirt and were cleaning the wounds to his side and wrist. Voclain had helped them to rid the unconscious man of the manacle. The infected wound on Aramis' side was getting the most attention as Athos did his best to get rid of any dirt to prevent it from becoming any worse.

'The hunters may still search for you,' said Sarah, 'you will have to keep him quiet overnight…'

She paused looking at the men for a moment.

'But I suspect you've probably had to do that sort of thing before?'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I think we've all been in his position at some point or another.'

MMMM

Athos wished they could have left for Paris immediately, but they could not move Aramis and d'Artagnan was not in much better shape. The younger Musketeer had managed to remain conscious when Sarah put in the stitches to his arm. She had mothered him enough to keep him calm. But he had quickly fallen asleep afterwards, the fatigue finally catching up with him.

Sarah had checked that they had everything they would need for the night and after a final word from Voclain to keep themselves quiet the couple retired to their house after locking the Musketeers into the barn.

Aramis had started to mumble incoherently on and off, Porthos sat with him talking to him quietly and using cool cloths in an attempt to ease his fever. Athos wondered if Aramis was aware of Porthos' ministrations. He hoped so. The comfort of knowing he was safe might help him to fight the infection quicker.

There were a few gaps in the wooden planks that made up the walls of the barn, Athos had found one which gave him a good view across the village. He settled himself down and kept watch, glancing back occasionally to look at his brothers.

'If they come, we will deal with it,' said Porthos quietly.

'I expect that once the other men know there is no one left to coordinate their abhorrent activity they will go home,' replied Athos without looking around, 'it is a shame we may never know who they are. I did not recognise either of the men that we killed.'

'If these two are well enough to travel tomorrow, we should go to the house. Legrand may have kept records. I'm sure the King, or Treville, might be interested.'

Aramis mumbled something again.

'What is he saying?'

Porthos looked up and smiled, 'worrying about d'Artagnan.'

'Typical,' remarked Athos. 'Is he still getting worse?'

Porthos shook his head, 'I don't think it will be too bad, any longer before we could clean him up properly and it might have been...do you want me to a take turn on watch?'

Athos shook his head, 'you seem quite settled in your nursing duties.'

Porthos scowled at him before grinning, 'they were lucky, weren't they?'

'I think they were. It is unfortunate that many have not been. But Legrand has been stopped now.'

MMMM

As the light returned, filtering through the gaps in the walls Porthos was aware of Aramis pushing against him. His friend was trying to sit up. Aramis' fever had broken during the night and his confused mumbled words had stopped leaving him sleeping soundly for the remainder of the night. Porthos and Athos had managed to sleep in turn for a few hours each. There had been no sign of any of the hunters searching the village.

'D'Artagnan?' asked Aramis as he again tried to sit up.

'He's over there, still asleep,' said Porthos quietly.

Porthos helped his brother to sit, keeping one arm around Aramis' shoulders when the man wavered slightly. It was obvious he was weak and still going to require looking after for another few hours. And, thought Porthos, Aramis would protest at such treatment, making it harder to do.

Porthos handed Aramis a water skin, from which his friend drank gratefully. Aramis was still pale and although much improved now that the fever was fading his skin still felt warm.

'Where are we?'

'The barn belonging to a couple who helped us. Monsieur Voclain found d'Artagnan for us and brought him back here and he and his wife tended to your injuries and allowed us to spend the night here,' said Athos who had crossed the hayloft to join them.

'The hunters?' asked Aramis sitting up a bit straighter, his breathing quickening.

Porthos guessed his friend was still trying to order the events of the last couple of days now that he was recovering.

'It's alright, Aramis, we ain't seen anything of them overnight. Legrand and Samson are both dead, without leaders, that kind of group will disband. Once they get word of the deaths they'll go.'

Athos nodded, 'I agree, I think we would have seen some of them overnight if they were still actively looking for you both.'

They looked over to the barn door as it was pulled open. Voclain looked up at the hayloft, he was smiling.

'A couple of labourers have just said that the rest of the hunters have gone. Some of them found the bodies of Legrand and Samson and spread the word.'

Porthos smiled, 'good. I think, perhaps, we should go as well.'

Athos nodded.

Voclain took a few steps into the barn and looked up at them, his expression slightly apprehensive as he spoke.

'I wondered, you mentioned yesterday that you would need to visit Legrand's house...now that he's gone, could we come with you?'

Porthos watched as Athos thought for a moment, 'I cannot see an issue with you going to the house with us to collect your son.'

'Thank you, monsieur,' said Voclain with a smile, 'Sarah's putting together some food for you, if you have time?'

'These two could probably do with eating if they are up to it,' said Porthos, who was still holding onto Aramis.

Thirty minutes later after rousing d'Artagnan and managing to get both men to have some food, despite Aramis showing little interest, they were on the road out of the village.

Porthos felt sorry for his brothers. It had not been easy getting the still slightly disoriented Aramis back down the ladder, the man had needed to be held up after sagging when he reached the ground. D'Artagnan was in better shape but still showing signs of the fatigue they were both suffering.

Voclain was driving his cart with d'Artagnan sat beside him. Sarah had settled herself with Aramis in the back, Porthos watched her making idle conversation with the injured man in an attempt to keep his mind off the bumpy journey.

Athos trotted up beside Porthos as they took the lead toward the big house.

'We will talk to the rest of the staff there, I doubt if any of them were complicit with Legrand's activities.'

'From what we've heard, 'e kept them cowed and almost prisoner,' said Porthos with a shake of his head, 'I doubt any will mourn his loss.'

Athos nodded his agreement, 'perhaps you could look over the house and find what money is there so that we can pay them off and send them on their way?'

Porthos nodded.

As they reached the house the big door was pulled slowly open. The slight figure of Gilbert appeared, he looked shocked at the sight that greeted him. He slowly walked down the steps as Voclain and Sarah approached him. Sarah swept the young man into her arms with Voclain grabbing them both in a hug.

The Musketeers watched, enjoying the family reunion.

'Thank you monsieurs,' said Vocalain when he finally extracted himself from the embrace, although he kept his hand on his son's shoulder as he spoke.

'Our pleasure,' replied Athos, 'you were invaluable in helping us to rescue our friends, it was the least we could do.'

The Musketeers watched as Gilbert led his parents into the house.

'What are the chances,' asked Aramis after Porthos had helped him down from the cart, 'that we know some of those hooded men?'

D'Artagnan sighed, 'I bet some of them have been to the Palace...and knew we would recognise them. I'm going to be looking at people carefully now.'

Porthos, his arm around Aramis waist said, 'if there are any, they will see you two and know that you were the ones that got away, the ones that caused Legrand's downfall.'

'I like that,' said d'Artagnan with a grin.

The End.

 **Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the comments and favourites (and the Facebook comments as well).**


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